


I'll Think Of Something Later

by Daxii



Series: Thinking Escapes Me [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: After care, Age Difference, Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Flirting, Kissing, Lazy ambiguous titles., M/M, Office AU, Riding, Rimming, Slow Build, inappropriate use of grapes, inspired by how I handle business
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 10:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3324386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daxii/pseuds/Daxii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Office AU inspired by How I Handle Business - one of my favourite fics.</p><p>Sousuke is forced to work with the irritating Haru for a week. But it turns out his company really isn't that bad.<br/>And he definitely wants more of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Think Of Something Later

I sigh and roll my eyes for the twelfth time in the space of ten minutes, glaring over at my new colleague. He’s a scrawny, young little thing. I think I was there for his interview. He made a similar impression on me then, too.

 _Lazy_. That man – _boy_ , is the epitome of lazy. It’s obvious in the way he slouches in his chair, how his tie doesn’t meet his collar, how his top button is open, how his sleeves are pushed up, the fact that those are _clearly_ black skinny jeans rather than proper trousers, his fingers twirling the pencil in his hand, his blue eyes gazing out at the window. Everything. _Everything_. And he’s barely said a word.

At least the boss is finally getting a whiff of my mood. He slides the file over to me with a flick of his wrist and slams his hands down on the table in dismay.

“Look, I don’t know _what’s_ up _either_ of your asses, but you both, especially _you_ , Yamazaki, need to pull it out pretty fucking fast, because I need these, _all_ of these, completed by Monday morning. You’re my best guys. You can pull it off, easily.”

He bores his eyes into me and I glare back. He can’t honestly be serious, can he? This fucking _kid_ is his best shot?

The kid in question clears his throat, and the boss and I both turn to him. He looks up at the clock, across to the door, and back at the boss. The hint is obvious.

“Sure, Nanase,” the boss says, oddly calm, almost _affectionately_ , “you’re free to go. I know you have a train to catch. Yamazaki will email you with each overview before nine tonight, alright.” I will, will I?

“Mmhmm,” Nanase hums, slips his pad into his gaudy sport’s satchel, and slips out of the door without even a wave.

The boss rounds on me, purple eyes narrow behind his red glasses. But I get in first.

“You expect me to work with _that_?!” I demand.

“I understand the situation is hardly ideal, but this really is the only viable option.”

“Fifty posters in five days is _never_ viable to even fucking _start_ with,” I back lash, wanting to tear my own hair out.

“Which is _why_ I need you and Nanase covering it. This isn’t an _important_ deal, but it _is_ a big one.”

“I’ve not even _seen_ the kid’s portfolio and I’m supposed to feed him ideas? What’s he even capable of? He’s fresh out of school. You can still smell the _artiste_ on his clothes from whatever hippy laundrette he’s been using.”

“His _portfolio?!_ Sousuke, have you been living under your desk the entire time he’s been here? Nanase doesn’t _need_ a portfolio. Every single piece he’s done this last three months has been accepted and been published. He’s good enough that you can fire whatever crap that even _slightly_ fits the bill for these that you want, and he’ll make it just _beautiful_ ,” he gushes over the last word. I quirk an eyebrow in disbelief.

But in the end, I know I have to relent. I can hardly throw such a wobbler with the guy who pays me, it’s just so _frustrating_ to be forced to work with someone almost half my age and such a polar opposite to me.

“Oh please, Sousuke. Don’t pout. The guy’s good looking even if you don’t like anything else about him. And I _promise_ you the commission for this is totally worth it. But that’s only _if_ you get it done.”

Right. Because the kid having a pretty face makes me that much less wont to punch him. I’m not so sure, thank you very much.

At least he lets me go home early. But I’ve a mountain of plans to draft, after all. It’s the least he can do, really.

 

Advertising. _Advertising._ Whose bright assed idea was it for me to go into _advertising_ of all things, anyway?

“But you’re so _assertive_ , Sousuke. You’ll have them eating out of the palm of your hand,” he’d said.

I feel like this particular idiot – not Nanase, although I still need to pay him _some_ attention tonight by sending him that email overview – deserves an abusive phone call at some point. The guy in question is an even bigger idiot than Nanase will surely turn out to be.

Yet somehow, he’s my best friend.

But back to the task at hand, which at least is a pleasurable one. Getting myself well and truly _out_ of this high rise hell and home for a date with my couch. I don’t know where Nanase lives, but I’m confident I can get home before him and still have time to unwind before I have to deal with the monstrous file now trying to bulge out of my briefcase before he’s made his way through the maze of crowds that rush hour tube travel always brings.

Plans go as intended, and I even get chance to warm up some leftovers for dinner before time really starts to press its impatient little hands into my brain, telling me to get on with this email.

 

I’ve chosen my office as our venue to hold our meetings. Unsurprisingly, Nanase saunters in twenty minutes late. His hair is damp and un-brushed, and those are definitely the same pants he had on yesterday. Not that I’d paid _that_ much attention to them… honest.

“You’re late,” I scold. He shrugs. _Shrugs_.

“Trains… you know.”

I’m almost speechless with his nonchalance, but at the same time, I’m still not surprised.

However I _am_ surprised when he comes over to my desk and dumps a plastic folder in front of me.

“You started?”

He shrugs again. “Those were easy…”

I unclick the little button and slide out the glossy pages. Out of habit, I check the timestamps printed on the back… 8:03am, this morning. He _wasn’t_ late with the train, he’d been up to the print room. Well isn’t that just… something. It’s something. Not impressive, obviously. Takes a lot more than that to impress me-

 _Oh_. Ok.

I’m impressed now.

The first A4 sized print is mostly green. There’s so much green. And it’s not even just one shade. It all blends into itself in just… green. It’s almost like one of those holographic prints that shimmers between images, except this is _just green_. I’ve not even read the logo across the middle yet and I can just _tell_ this is going to be the poster for the grass people.

Nanase plonks himself down in the chair at the other side of my desk and I set the first print down without comment. I’m similarly bowled over by the other six he’s already churned out, but if there’s one thing I’ve perfected over years of being stuck with the most _unruly_ clients (thanks, Rei),  it’s how to pull off a poker face.

Although I’ve still got a long way to go before I can look as vacant as Nanase. He’s got that down to an _art_.

No pun intended.

I choose my words carefully. This guy probably has an ego, one that he fully deserves, if these are anything to go by, but _I_ certainly won’t be the one to fill it.

“It’s always good to get a head start on a big project, but you must have stayed up late with this… that’s bad for productivity in the long run.”

“I was just doodling before bed,” he shrugs, but there’s a smugness to the glint in his eye.

If these are Nanase’s _doodles_ , well…

I clear my throat. “I thought it would be best to get some of the more challenging projects out of the way as soon as possible, do you agree?”

He shrugs, _again_ , “You’re the boss.”

Hmm. I am, aren’t I. Definitely the _senior_ partner on this project, anyway. I look him over. He _does_ have a pretty face, all eyes and cheekbones with a delicate little mouth. I’d probably feel a little better if he wasn’t looking _me_ over in the exact same way, though. His artist’s eye languidly tracing over my frame gives a new dimension on the feeling of being “undressed” just with someone’s stare. He can probably work out every little curve and tone of my flesh just from the way my suit hangs over it.

Speaking of suits, I thought we had a dress code? And that ratty little jumper he’s wearing certainly doesn’t conform. He does _digital_ art, for shit’s sake. There’s really no reason to come in covered in little dated paint splatters, as if it’s some excuse for keeping his clothes clean.

Suddenly, I become aware the silence has dragged on for too long. He’s not even looking at me anymore. Instead, I can see his eye-line falling behind me to the decorative clock on the wall. I try not to fumble as I open my laptop. He puts his on the desk, too.

“What did you have planned?” he asks.

“Oh… erm…” well you see, you cocky little shit, we were _supposed_ to be completing this _together_ , but… let’s see how good he actually is, shall we?

I bring up the criteria for a cheap yoghurt company looking for a promotional display to print both as advertisements and on their packaging. It’s more of a challenge, having them both in one. This isn’t something that’s just going to be hanging on a boring wall for a few months and then updated again. It’s a long term thing, packaging, but he looks completely unfazed. But they’re not a significant enough company where this actually _matters_ , bottom shelf stuff, really, so I’m not afraid to wing it.

“Probably pale colours, like pink and orange, maybe a little cream in there too. The spoon that underlines the logo bigger, across the page, so when it sits on the front of the package it looks like it’s dipping in… uh…” I look around both our screens. He’s tapping away at his drawing tablet… I thought we were supposed to be making notes? “Are you even listening?”

“Pink. Spoon. Yeah. How’s this?” he flips his screen around.

 _It’s perfect_.

“Not bad…”

 _Holy shit_.

“Mm…” Nanase hums, and twirls his stylus, looking impatient. “Next?” he prompts, when he catches my eye.

Maybe this won’t take five days after all…

 

Lunch rolls around. I’ve fully annotated the seven Nanase did the night before, just started working on the yoghurt one, and we’ve collaborated plans for five, which Nanase seems to be working on simultaneously, flicking tabs periodically to add a line under _here_ or shade _that_ just a little darker. I save my document and stretch, rolling my beat up shoulder a few times. It gets achy when I work for so long. Nanase’s eyes are on me again.

“What do you usually do for lunch?” I ask him.

“Eat,” he deadpans, stare unwavering.

I don’t have the patience for this. There’s a shop that does _great_ bagels just two blocks away. As I’m leaving, I hold the door open for just a second. I’m not going to explicitly _invite_ him to come… it’s just a courtesy. He politely rejects the offer by pretending I don’t exist.

On my return, Nanase has left the desk and sprawled out on the decorative chaise lounge that is supposed to be for _guests_ , laptop balanced on this stomach and tablet resting on the small drinks’ table he’s pulled to his side. His eyes are half lidded, and if it weren’t for the movements of his hand on the tablet, it would be easy to think he was settling down for a nap.

“I’ve got grapes, if you want some,” I offer, because it’s polite, I fully intend for him to reject.

He looks up, and I’m probably standing too close to him, judging by the way his eyes shrink back under my shadow. But I’m glad my presence is still a _little_ imposing. Maybe it’ll make him sit the fuck up. On the contrary, he opens his mouth, and his eyes settle into something expectant.

I glare at him.

I am _not_ about to hand feed him grapes while he lounges on my chaise.

But he has other ideas.

“I can’t get my hands sticky,” he informs me, like it’s the most important piece of knowledge I’ll gather in my lifetime.

Maybe if I ram it in his mouth hard enough he’ll choke.

…Or not. He chews appreciatively, and looks back to his screen.

It occurs to me that we could probably communicate this by email. I could have my office all to myself, how I like it, and he could go and work… wherever he works. Do our artists have their own offices? Studios? I have no idea. So in the end, I don’t say anything. At least he’s _quiet_.

 

Nanase was late again on the second day, hair again wet, clothes more dishevelled than usual, and this time he actually uttered something akin to an apology.

“I haven’t been up to the print room yet… so… I’ll be back,” he says, a little embarrassed.

On his return, with another half dozen completed adverts, I shoot for a smile. I don’t like his lax attitude, but there must be _something_ inside him that’s striving to do well.

“Keep going at this rate and we’ll be done by Friday,” I say brightly.

“That’s the idea…” Nanase muses, taking his position back on the chaise. “I have a thing at weekend… don’t want to miss it for work.”

“A thing?” I’m curious.

“A thing,” he repeats, and the look on his face is very final.

We get to work, then, and there’s something nice about having him in the office to muse to. We’ve got a bit of a system going, and it’s definitely the kind that I like, because he just lies there and takes in what I say. The silences while I’m reading the customer’s notes, looking at their history, all that boring stuff, are easy. The tapping of his stylus on the tablet it rhythmic and soothing, a constant little background beat.

Kid’s got balls, too.

“ _Red?!_ Why _red?!_ What’s _red_ got to do with _orange juice?!_ ” he chastises, voice as loud as I’ve ever heard it, and it feels so much like I’m being told off that I blush sheepishly and apologise. He continues to scowl.

I throw a grape at him. It lands on his chest, but without enough force to splatter. He shoots me a look, and then, cool as anything, picks it up and eats it.

By that afternoon, I’ve made a game out of aiming for his mouth when I’m on a creativity crash. There’s a minefield of missed shots surrounding the lounge, but I can ignore that. My aim is getting better, at any rate.

“What’s wrong with your shoulder?” he asks all of a sudden at some point after lunch, and I’m a little amazed that he too only has so much stamina for this shit.

Something on my face must show… how had he known there was something up? And how much _cheek_ did he have to have to bring it up?

“Uh… sorry… if it’s personal…” he mumbles, looking back to his screen.

“No… no,” I cough. “It’s… an old sports injury. It’s fine.”

He looks thoughtfully at me for a while, and his observational stare is unsettling, but without further comment he gets back to work.

 

Nanase’s even _later_ on Wednesday, and I can’t help the small pang of unadulterated _worry_ that courses through me when it gets to half past eight and I’ve even been upstairs to check if he’s in the print room, but there’s no sign of him.

“Sorry,” he says, a slightly frantic tone in his voice as he bursts through my office door. When did I become so alright with someone not knocking? “Had a thing… for my thing… got a lift in… traffic.”

I slowly nod, at this point more relieved than anything. “It’s fine…” it’s not, but I’m glad _he_ seems to be fine. “Did you get anything done overnight?”

He cocks his head and shoots me a look. “I emailed them to you.”

I wince a little at how this must look… I’ve been here for forty-five minutes already and I’ve not even checked my emails yet. “Sorry,” I cover, “been thinking. I’ll get them printed now.”

“I’ll do it… they’re on my memory stick anyway,” he dumps his bag and turns to leave again. “Do you… want coffee?”

My mouth falls open and it takes a second for me to force words out of it. “Uh… sure. Little milk, no sugar.”

“Mm,” he hums, like he already knew.

Nanase makes good coffee. “This is great,” I smile, warm and genuine, when I set the mug back down on the desk. He’s sitting across from me, like the first morning, with a cup of plain, cold tea.

He looks much more refreshed after the quiet sit down while I muse over his latest works. It’s painful to admit aloud but… “You’re really talented,” I can’t help but say.

A shy smile slips up one side of his mouth, and it’s unbelievably cute. I find myself staring for definitely too long, but he’s looking right back.

I look away quickly, too quickly, and Nanase’s eyes slip to the side too. I end up looking towards the shelf, where the almost finished packet of grapes still sits.

“We better finish these today, or they’ll go bad,” I muse, and reach for the little plastic bag. “Open up.”

He blinks at me, brows furrowed for just a second, but then parts his lips. At such a short distance, there’s no room to miss, especially as Nanase has gotten so good at catching them, too. We’re almost an hour late with starting, but I can’t even _remember_ the last time I grinned so much in a morning. I take the last grape and hold it out, twisting it teasingly between my fingers. He gets the hint and leans down, delicately taking it between his teeth. His tongue rolls out to scoop it into his mouth, and he just barely licks the tip of my thumb. I help with pushing it all the way into his mouth, and my fingers linger just under his chin for an extra second.

He gets up without a word, taking his tea with him and goes back to his usual seat. A few minutes later, I look over at him, and he’s working calmly as usual, only there’s a grape poking out between his teeth, occasionally being sucked into his mouth, rolled around, and then finally, when he’s caught me looking, he bites down on it.

 

Later that afternoon, when it’s almost time to start thinking about leaving, we’re both torn from our comfortable, quiet revere with a crash of thunder outside. I knew rain was predicted, but nothing like _this_ was supposed to be on the radar. Nanase gives the sky outside the window a particularly venomous scowl. It occurs to me that that sarcastic little tongue of his could probably lash out quite the whipping if properly agitated.

“Would you like a ride to the station?” I ask, trying to make it sound like an afterthought. Nanase usually leaves ten minutes before me to catch his train, whereas I tend to hang back until the scramble in the car park has lessened.

“Um…” his eyes widen, sort of shocked. “If it’s not too much trouble…”

“Not at all… wouldn’t want your computer getting damaged in the rain.”

I lead him out of the office, locking the door behind me. It’s the first time we’ve really stood next to each other. I knew I was considerably taller, but his shoulders and waist are so slim, too. I suddenly feel clumsy and gargantuan walking beside him. We reach my car, and he cocks an eyebrow. Is that him being impressed? I should hope so.

“Nice colour,” he comments, slipping into the passenger seat.

Well he would, wouldn’t he?

 

The next morning, he’s on time, with dry hair, and looking thoroughly miserable.

“What’s wrong?” I ask on instinct.

“My weekend thing… not happening,” he replies, grouchily, and I feel a twinge of sympathy for how disappointed he looks.

He’s not done any work overnight, either. Not that he _has_ to do work from home, it’s just really going to knock us back with finishing before the weekend.

“Well… at least you’re free on Saturday now to finish up,” I try and smile, but his scowl deepens.

By lunch, he’s lost in an obvious sulk and we’re making little progress. I step out from behind my desk and go to crouch by his head. “Show me what you’ve done?”

He minimises the solitaire game he’s failing on, not even a hint of care that I’ve seen it, that I could reprimand him for this, and slowly flicks through the dozen half-finished designs we’ve discussed. They’re still great, more than acceptable, but the difference in quality is obvious.

“Come on. I know the best sandwich shop.”

I close his laptop, and he lets me take it from him and set it on the end of the lounge. Reluctantly, he rolls into a sitting position and flexes, stretching. It’s tempting to run my hand through his hair, he looks so young, like a moody teen, and it occurs to me that I’m not even sure how old he actually is.

I broach the subject in an attempt at small talk over lunch. His mackerel and pineapple panini is a disturbing flavour combination, but he’s already perking up.

“Where did you graduate from?”

“Um, high school?” he answers, nervously.

“So you’re only eighteen?” my eyes widen, but he shakes his head. “Nineteen?” a nod. Well, at least I’m not _quite_ twice his age…

“I’m taking a few courses in my spare time… not that I’ve got much of that at the moment.”

“Just with the local university?” he nods. “I have a friend who works there. Coaches swimming.”

He pauses mid-bite, and apparently that’s pressed a button or two, but he chews and swallows, and right when I think he’s going to ask more, he looks away.

“Do you swim?” he finally speaks.

“Used to… but… shoulder,” I grumble. “You?”

“Free.”

Whatever I was about to say is ripped from my throat when my phone rings. There’s no mistaking that ringtone. “Sorry,” I say to Nanase, who turns his head dismissively. I answer the phone. “What do you want?”

 _“Missed you too, Sousuke!”_ the voice on the other end laughs. _“I’ve got a bone to pick with you!”_

“Oh, great, what have I supposedly done _now_?”

_“My best kid just pulled out of the gala this Saturday. Said he had too much work.”_

“And how is this _my_ fault exactly?”

 _“Guess where he works.”_ I say nothing. _“Future Fish.”_

“It’s a big company, Rin, again I fail to see how this is _my_ fault.”

 _“It just_ is _, alright. I needed someone to moan at. There’s no way I can get a good enough replacement in time… I’m gonna ring him right after this and ask him to reconsider. You should_ see _him swim, Sousuke. I’ve never seen anything like it. He could be Olympic material, if he set his mind to it.”_

“Oh don’t get so sentimental. You just want someone to follow in your footsteps,” I chuckle at the dreaminess in his voice. “Either that or he’s got a tight ass. You shouldn’t get so hung up on your students.”

 _“Don’t even get me_ started _on his ass. You’d love him, Sou. He’s so slight for a swimmer, it’s dead sexy. Black hair, blue eyes, nothing but cheekbones and this gorgeous little mouth…_ ” I look across at Nanase, who’s still looking away. This description sounds awfully familiar.

“It’s a good thing you don’t coach high schoolers, Rin. You’d be locked up. Leave the kid alone, we’re really busy at the moment. My… new partner and I are rushed off our feet this week.” Nanase glances at my choice in words. I ignore the smug smirk.

As we’re leave, Nanase’s phone also rings. He quickly shuts it off.

“Sorry about that call…”

“It’s fine… he seems like an… _interesting_ person.”

I laugh a little and hold the door to the office open for him. “Gay swimmers. What can you do?”

He turns bright red.

“Oh shit, sorry… I… um… you’re…?”

He nods.

“That’s…” _hot_ , “fine. Honest.”

Nanase remains a little flushed as we get up to my floor, but settles into work looking much more relaxed than this morning.

If anything, the quality of his work is even _better_ than what I’d first seen. Obviously not having the pressure of finishing by tomorrow night had done him wonders.

It’s not raining, but I drive him to the station again, anyway. On my way home, I pick up another pack of grapes.

 

There’s twenty three ads left to finish. _Completely_ finish. From scratch. I come in half an hour early on Friday morning to make a start planning, and check my email immediately to see if Nanase has finished anything over night. No such luck. I _really_ didn’t want to have to come in tomorrow morning but… shit happens, I guess.

Nanase comes in, his usual dishevelled, soggy self, but this time he’s brought coffee, and five more posters for me to check off the list. My mood brightens considerably.

“So, do you swim before coming into work, Nanase?” I ask, opening the folder.

“Yeah… usually,” he replies, already beginning to busy himself with setting his laptop and tablet up over on the chaise.

He comes back to the desk, but instead of sitting across, he comes around to my side and leans over, leans so _close_ I can’t not smell the chlorine on him, and suddenly I’m far too hot. He’s too close. _Way too close_.

Ashamed as I am to say it, it _definitely_ need more than just a hot little body within reach to get to this point these days. But there he is, so close, almost leaning across my lap, and I’m so busy staring at him I haven’t even realised what he’s doing yet until he’s backing off.

He looks at me, and cocks his head. I promptly close my mouth and hope to _god_ the dampness on my forehead hasn’t become visible.

Suddenly it all makes sense. The teasing. The _grapes_. Oh _god_ , I’ve been flirting just as hard as he has all week. I gulp. He’s just a _kid_. There’s no way he’s seriously interested in anything. Anything serious, anyway… but maybe…

I’m no stranger to a hook up… and it’s been a _while_ …

“What is it you need?” I ask, voice low, accidentally sultry. His lips twitch up at my discomfort.

“Just looking at the new plans,” he says, calm as anything, as if he has no idea what he’s doing to me.

It takes me a minute to recover my senses, finally able to breathe again with him over at the chaise. After a couple of hours, he declares he’s finished another three, so I go over, taking the grapes with me. I crouch next to him again, and press one to his closed lips. He opens up slowly, and with one finger cupped under his chin, I push it all the way in with my thumb, letting it sink in to the first knuckle along with the fruit.

I’m sure that little mouth could work _wonders_.

His work is good as ever, and I abandon my act of being unaffected. The kid deserves praise. For as lazy and rude as I thought him to be, he’s turned out to be a pretty hard worker… and not bad company, either. I could definitely get used to having him around… in fact I’m pretty sure I’m going to miss him on Monday. I lean in further. There’s a small part of my brain reminding me that he’s _nineteen_ and we’re at _work_ and this is wrong on more levels than I care to count but…

His eyes slip shut, his head turns expectantly in my hand to face me, and I completely close the gap between our lips.

He tastes like mackerel and grapes. I must taste like coffee. The kiss is soft, chaste, and only lasts a second.

“Are you suddenly feeling more motivated to get this finished by tonight?” I whisper, because I for one can think so something _much_ more entertaining to be doing this weekend. We both know it’s an impossible challenge, though. But I’d bet on us finishing around lunch time tomorrow.

“I could use… maybe a little more encouragement.”

Pushy little thing, isn’t he? “Well, maybe you’ll get a _reward_ if you’re a good boy this morning.” Good boy? Where did _that_ come from?

Nanase’s eyes flicker, and maybe that’s a thing. Maybe, while I’d been thinking he’d dismiss any attraction because of the age difference, that for him, that’s half the fun.

I can’t say it doesn’t interest me a little too.

 

We lunch separately – yesterday had been a fluke – and I need to clear my head, get some _space_ from Nanase, just for half an hour. I’ve never felt like this before… Nanase’s attractive, definitely, even the boss had said it, but that meant nothing, or at least, it was supposed to. I _shouldn’t_ do anything. I should stop this as soon as we’re done. Tell him the kiss was a mistake. We probably won’t have to work with each other again, anyway. We can just forget about this week. Office romances aren’t forbidden, not in the slightest. There’s over five hundred people who work just in this building. _Flings_ , however, are a different ball game, and one I’m definitely too old to be playing but…

Who am I kidding?

I want that kid.

But somehow, a certain red-head always manages to get in the way of the things I want.

Rin is at the reception desk of the Future Fish office building, waiting impatiently in line. Call me presumptuous, but I’m going to guess he’s here to continue yesterday’s rant at me. It’s fine. I still have twenty minutes of lunch break left, anyway.

“Rin,” I call out to him, making my way over from the canteen. I have to pass the desk to get to the elevators, anyway.

“Oh, hey, just the man I wanted to see. How do you fancy a drink?”

“It’s _lunchtime_ , Rin,” I scold.

“Come on. Just the one. I know you have that Scotch in the office.”

Yes, but I also have Nanase in the office… although, if Nanase’s interested in swimming, Rin wouldn’t be a bad person for him to meet in the long run, anyway. I can just picture his little face lighting up from meeting a gold medallist. We go up, and I knock once on the door to let Nanase know I’m coming in. I don’t know why. It’s _my_ office. It just seems polite.

“Uh, Rin,” I start, holding the door open for him. “This is – ”

“Haru!” my friend barks, and I look from Rin to Nanase, who’s eyes have flown open in absolute surprise. “Oh my _god_ , Sousuke. It _is_ your fault.”

“W-what?”

“This is my swimmer!” he points dramatically at Nanase. “My kid who quit the relay because he had to do _work_ ,” he yells, and rounds on Nanase. “You! I can’t _believe_ you chose Sousuke over _me!_ ”

“Um…” Nanase sits up, hands balled into fists in his lap, and looks at me for some kind of reassurance.

Well, at least I can agree with his description of Nanase’s ass…

Everything falls into place. “So your ‘thing’ this weekend… you were meant to be in the swimming gala?” I ask Nanase.

“He _needs_ to be in the swimming gala!” Rin yells, again, and I clap my hand over his mouth to let Nanase speak.

“We’re in a rush…” Nanase says quietly. “I didn’t want to…” he doesn’t finish, looking away, nervous and shy.

Rin breaks free and marches over to him, almost crawling into his lap as he squats in front of him and grabs his shoulders. Nanase doesn’t look at him, though, and they both look over at me.

“Is there no way you can let up on him so he can swim? For _me_ , Sou?” Rin pleads, like this is _still_ my fault.

“I’m stuck working this weekend too, you know,” I snap back. Nanase appears to flinch at my tone. “Urgh… we’d be up till midnight getting everything done…”

“I’ll buy you, both of you, anything you want for dinner,” Rin offers, more like a beg.

I look at Nanase, who’s looking rather overwhelmed. “Up to you… you can…uh, you’re welcome come over to mine, to get this finished,” it’s suggestive, sure, and I ignore the sly eye Rin gives me.

Nanase nods, looking suddenly more interested.

“I love you,” Rin almost cries, flinging himself at Nanase into a hug, crushing his lithe little body with his strong grip.

Nanase doesn’t look too pleased, and pushes Rin away gently but firmly. Can’t blame him, really. Rin’s always been clingy.

We get Rin out of the office a few minutes later than intended, but both with a new determination. I turn to Nanase, who’s stood up to rearrange his work space, and stalk over, tentatively placing my hand on the back of his hip. He tenses, but turns around.

“I think you deserve that reward now,” I whisper, hotly, stooping to press my forehead against his. Really, anyone deserves some kind of compensation for dealing with Rin.

He looks up, anticipation written all over him, and I bring our mouths together again, sucking against his lips. I’m careful not to let him lick us anything into too exciting – we have a long way to go.

“So I’ve been a good boy, then?”

“What makes you think that? I’d say you’re an _incredibly_ naughty boy,” I tease, and give a peck against his lips as we part. “But incredible, none the less. Rin’s very impressed with your swimming.”

“Is that why you agreed?”

“Hmm… maybe,” I won’t say that not wanting to let Rin down didn’t have _some_ baring on my willingness. “Probably not _exactly_ how I intended for us to spend the night together but – ”

“What?”

_Oops._

“Never mind,” I kiss him again, and he brings a hand up to hold my arm. “No pressure.”

 

Nanase is visibly nervous as we step out my car in my garage, and fails at shutting the door twice before I come around and take his clammy hand in one of mine and properly click the door closed with the other.

“Is the living room alright for you?” I ask, even though I know he’s perfectly capable of working splayed out on a couch. We _should_ probably work at the dining table but… well. That limits contact a bit, doesn’t it? “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you some tea, kay?”

He nods and scuttles away from me, but I hear the familiar creak of leather as he sits down. It’s almost definitely inappropriate for… whatever this is, whatever it’s going to be… but I come up to the back of the couch and wrap my free arm around his front while my other stretches out to out his tea on the table in front, and then joins in holding onto him, my chin on his shoulder. He has his legs crossed, laptop balanced on them, and his tablet sat on the arm of the couch.

“All set?” I ask, and he turns a little towards me, obviously relaxing.

“Yeah.”

“Good. I hope you don’t mind if I go and take a shower? Help yourself to anything,” he nods. “Good boy. I won’t be long,” I kiss his cheek, and his eye scrunches a little. Maybe it’s too intimate.

Who am I kidding?

This is _entirely_ too intimate to begin with.

I don’t bother with underwear when I change into my pyjamas after my shower. I know it’s barely evening, but we’re not in _work_ , and I’m past the age where I really care what I’m wearing in my own home. Comfort has become a priority. I have the decency to wear a top, though.

“Progress?” I ask, sitting down at the other end of the couch, turned sideways with my knees up, leaning against the arm.

He nods and turns his screen. I still don’t know how he manages to translate my visions so well. I’m almost disappointed this will be our last time working together. Rei was right. We _do_ make quite the team. 

“Pace yourself. Don’t want you burning out before we’re done,” I lightly caution, bringing up my own computer and retrieving the file he’s sent me so I can start to annotate and bullshit my way through the technicalities.

He scowls, like I’ve patronised him, which I suppose I probably have. I laugh it off and nudge his thigh gently with my foot. Kid’s cute when he’s angry.

Rin arranges for our Thai to be delivered around seven, and we’re definitely making good progress, but Nanase looks ready to drop. I stack our takeaway boxes on the table, and take his wrist when he goes to grab his laptop again.

“Let’s take a little break?” I suggest, and he seems to consider it for a moment before sitting back in his seat. “Come here?” I try, watching the cogs tick behind his eyes as he scoots closer, deciding it’s important for _him_ to make a move too. “There,” he crawls up between my legs, and this is _much_ more than I’d expected, even more so when he lies down on my chest. I hold him loosely, so he can back up if he wants, but gently bring our lips together anyway.

He’s more into it away from the office, opening his mouth almost immediately and bullying my lips with his tongue to gain access. I let him play and explore, moving just enough against him so he won’t think I’m not interested. He slowly pulls away, panting a little, and rests down on my shoulder.

“How old are you?” he asks, confident and cheeky again.

“Thirty seven,” I say, not allowing the hint of shame to creep into my voice. I’m not _bothered_ about my age, aging happens to everyone, I’m more worried that _he_ will be.

“ _Really?!_ ” he looks up, close to my face, obviously looking for wrinkles and greys.

“ _Yes_ ,” I sigh. “Why, what were you thinking?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he teases, pushing his face into my neck.

“I’m curious,” I admit. “Do you like that?”

“Like what?”

“That I’m practically old enough to be your _daddy_.”

He blushes. That’s a yes.

“I’ve never done this before, with someone so much younger.”

“Done what?”

Is he doing this on purpose? His head lolls in my neck, kissing my collar bone. He can’t be _that_ naïve, surely?

“Whatever _this_ is,” I clarify, squeezing him.

“And what’s that?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, you little shit,” I nibble at his ear.

“I’m not.”

Oh. _Oh._ So he’s _not_ just in it for a shag…?

I decide not to answer, moving into a kiss, because _that’s_ a whole other dimension I hadn’t even dared to think about. Pulling apart, I whisper to him, “We’ll have to see, won’t we?” I leave it open. Leave it up to him. “We should get back to it,” I grumble, reality hitting me.

It hits Nanase too, like a train, and he curls into me, earning himself another squeeze.

“Just four left, right?” I ask.

He nods. We already have the plans drawn up, but it’s been taking him longer and longer to get each design finished to his usual standard the more he overworks himself. So much so, that I’ve caught up to him with annotating, and now I’m waiting for him to finish the face of a kitten we decided on to advertise cat food. Maybe a tortoiseshell was too far a design choice… something black and white would have taken half the time.

“Nanase,” I gently get his attention as he frowns in frustration at his tablet. “Do another one. Come back to that.”

“But you’re waiting.”

“It’s fine. As long as they’re _drawn_ tonight it won’t take me long to get them written up at some point over the weekend,” and I’ve pretty much already resigned myself to having to work tomorrow _anyway_. An hour of annotating won’t kill me, if I have to.

Nanase opens up a blank page and sets off on a mostly plain music store advertisement. Lots of black and grey and sharp lines he doesn’t need to worry about. It still takes him longer than usual, but he sends it off to me with a relieved little sigh. When I’ve finished with it, I slide over and set my feet on the ground, sitting next to him to watch him work, not quite close enough to touch. He makes no comment, but after a few minutes scoots over an inch to feel the pressure of my thigh against his. I don’t know what this means, in his head, but it seems to keep him going, so I let him do what he wants.

At eleven o’clock, we’re at last back on the kitten. Erasing its whiskers for the billionth time, Nanase’s head bonks on my bicep in defeat.

“Hey…”

He makes a disgruntled noise and lifts his laptop away, pushing it onto the table. I watch him, worried, preparing a little pep talk in my head when suddenly he’s straddling my lap.

“You still have work to finish,” I scold, though my hands are already on his waist.

“I don’t _care_ ,” he growls, and pushes in for a kiss, bumping our noses together. I pull him back.

“You _will_ care when you’re still working on it on Sunday night.”

He groans, and I let him kiss me this time, his determined little tongue having its way with me and his hands holding my shoulders. I suppose it’s time we took another little break anyway.

“So you can have five minutes of… rest,” _rest? This is_ rest _?!_ “And then you’ll finish that stupid cat,” he grunts into my neck. “And then you can have a shower, or even a nice long soak in the tub to calm down, and then I’ll put you to bed. Alright?”

“Bath?” he repeats. I nod. He looks pleased. “And bed…? With… you?”

“If… that’s what you’d like, yes.”

He stares at me. I can’t read his blank expression, but it’s obvious he’s thinking. “I suppose…” he says eventually, and comes back to kissing.

It’s softer and less needy, now. Lazy little licks and nips that leave the tips of his ears pink and a bulge in his pants. I brush my knuckles against it, but he backs away then. Not looking _regretful_ or _anxious_ as such. More like embarrassed.

At least he’s motivated to finish that last work in record time.

I get it all written up and store the entire assignment on a memory stick, securing it in my wallet for safe keeping for Monday, while Nanase has slunk off to the bathroom.

I’m _so_ glad that’s over.

I’d intended for us to be in bed before midnight, but Nanase hasn’t made a peep out of the bathroom yet. Is it alright to go and knock? I’ll give him another ten minutes…

After fifteen still no Nanase, I go upstairs and rap twice on the bathroom door. There’s no response. Concerned, I turn the handle, glad he hasn’t locked it.

“Are you alright?” I ask as I push in, having to step around the door to see him.

Erm… I _think_ he’s alright. He looks pretty blissed out, anyway.

“Nanase?” I keep my eyes on his face, trying to behave.

“Hmm?” he looks up at me, all smiley, at least as smiley as I’ve ever seen him.

“Ready for bed?”

“I guess,” he shrugs, and holds his arms out.

Does he expect me to…? I inch closer, sliding my arms under his. He doesn’t pull away, leaning into me instead, resting his head over my shoulder.

“I’m not carrying you,” I scold, because, well, I’m just _not_.

“Aw…” he appears genuinely put out.

I let go and step back, turning to the cupboard where I keep my towels. “Reckon you can find the bedroom?”

“Mm,” he grunts, and splashes his face. Shaking his hair out, he looks a little more aware of his surroundings, and suddenly looks a bit sheepish.

“I’ll leave some things of Rin’s outside the door, alright?” Rin was always leaving things strewn around whenever he was too lazy to go home. He took up half the drawer space in the spare bedroom.

Speaking of spare bedrooms, I hoped Nanase was still on board with sleeping with me.

Sleeping sleeping. Just sleeping. However _tempting_ the little thing might be right now, all placid and a little bit clingy, we’re up at eight, and Rin would kill me if I sent his protégé to a tournament with a sore ass.

I get us both a glass of water. It’s been a while since the other bedside table has had a glass sat on it. It’s one of those little domestic things you start to miss. I sit on the edge of the bed, waiting. Not for long, though, because there’s the soft padding of feet sneaking down the hallway.

“Second door,” I call out softly, and he pushes it open. “Hey,” I smile and hold out my hands and he tiptoes over, climbing straight into my lap.

“I’m tired,” he mumbles.

“Mm, you’re cute when you’re tired,” I kiss his lips, just enough force to keep him awake. “Still alright sharing with me?”

“You’re warm,” it’s not really an answer, but I suppose it’ll do.

I kiss him just for a bit more, because it’s nice, just getting to kiss someone, still clothed, but with the obvious promise of _more_ , providing Nanase doesn’t realise what an _awful_ situation this is in the morning and never speaks to me again… I stick my tongue in his mouth to calm my nerves.

Eventually, he pulls apart with a sleepy sigh, and I push him back to his feet so we can both get in under the covers. He does exactly as I expect with lying away, because though he seems to like kissing, he’s not particularly affectionate. Nor am I, under normal circumstances, but Nanase is… something else. Plus, _cuddling_ would _definitely_ make this even more of a bad idea.

I wake up with him pressed to my side all the same, though, and reach over him to knock the alarm off. I look down at him, then, eyes just blinking open and looking so _small_ trying to hide under my arm, as if he belongs there

“Time to get you up,” and I realise I’m _still_ using this strange tone of voice with him, like I’m treating him like a child, a little thing to be loved and looked after.

Nanase, I’m sure, is perfectly capable of looking after himself. I need to cut this shit out. Especially before Rin overhears.

There’s a muffled “no” pressed into my ribs, and he throws an arm over me in refusal.

“Yes,” I insist, sitting up and pulling him with me. He glares through sleep filled eyes.

“You’re annoying,” he growls, all the while pushing his forehead into my shoulder, but he suddenly snaps up, giving a very sorry look. “Your shoulder…”

“Is fine,” I soothe. “It’s not like you’re heavy, anyway,” I tease, brushing my thumb over his ribs. “But at least you’re awake now.”

He grunts, looking displeased. I move in for a kiss, but he puts his hand up between us and covers my mouth. “Clean your teeth,” he grumbles.

I push past his hand and kiss his cheek instead.

“You’re a brat. Go on, Rin’ll be here within the hour. And I’m sure you’ve seen what he’s like when he gets all excited about something.”

Nanase’s eye roll shows he understands, and he pushes out of bed with a slight stagger.

                                                                                                                                        

He’s surprisingly calm over breakfast, even if I _do_ have to force the plate of eggs under his nose.

“You’re very relaxed… not nervous about the competition?” I ask him.

He shrugs and swallows. “I don’t really care about competition.”

“Well, if what Rin says is true, I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“And what does Rin say?” he cocks his head, and there’s that little hint of an ego again.

“Maybe I’ll tell you later, if you live up to expectations.”

He quickly looks back to his food and eats a bit more, not looking up once. “Are you coming to watch?” he quietly asks.

“If… you don’t mind, I would like to see you swim.”

“Was it a big deal for you? Swimming, I mean.”

I swallow my food suddenly feeling sick. “Erm… a bit. I was definitely upset when I couldn’t compete anymore.”

“Then I’m probably going to disappoint you…” he says to his plate, barely a whisper.

I don’t know what that can possibly mean, but he looks hurt and uncomfortable, and as much as I’d like to reach out to him, I get the feeling I wouldn’t be appreciated. Rin comes in, then, as a painful reminder that I once gave him a front door key, for “emergencies”. He never fails to abuse that power.

He bounces into the dining room and his face lights up like he’s just been given a puppy at Christmas when he sees Nanase, but then his eyes narrow at me accusingly.

“You’re still in one piece, right Haru?” he asks, like he’s looking him over for wounds.

I roll my eyes. “He’s _fine_ ,”

“I wouldn’t say _fine_ ,” Nanase chimes in. “I’m tired.”

“Sousuke!” Rin growls, like it’s my fault, which it always seems to be. Though in his head, it’s easy to see what he’s thinking.

And he looks somewhere between furious and impressed. Let’s let him think, shall we?

“It doesn’t start till eleven… why can’t I go back to bed?” Nanase almost whines.

“Because registration starts at nine and you have teammates competing all morning. Should have thought of _that_ before you stayed up all night,” Rin turns his scold to his student, now. Arms folded, bristled like a cat that’s been stood on.

“It’s not like I had much choice,” Nanase shoots me a glare and Rin’s eyes widen in horror, and he’s obviously about to blow a fuse, but Nanase carries on. “Someone was snoring,” he grumbles.

I’d like to remind Rin that the _actual_ reason we’re both a bit sluggish this morning is because we were up finishing all that damn work, not that Rin’s _ever_ had a late working night in his life. He wouldn’t understand, and it’s not worth my breath, so I just sigh and give Nanase a nudge on the shoulder.

“Hands off!” Rin yells, slapping my hand down. “I don’t need damaged goods, thank you!”

“Oh, leave him alone,” I snort. “Come on, kid,” the pet name slips out, but he doesn’t look bothered.

I wink at Rin over my shoulder as I’m following Nanase out of the dining room. I shouldn’t be a jerk, but it’s Rin.

He flops face down on the bed and groans as soon as we’re in my bedroom, and it’s both hilarious and adorable at the same time. He rolls over, wiping his hands down his face and glares at me.

“Why’d you make him think we had sex?” he whines, a proper whine this time, not just his ever emotionless tone.

“You should have just denied it,” I tell him.

“No point if that’s gonna change, though,” he mumbles, low, like he’s musing mostly to himself.

Erm… what?

“He’s just teasing, anyway. He knows I wouldn’t… do that to you before a competition.”

“I don’t care about competition,” he repeats. “You do, though…” he says, watching me.

“A story for another time,” I dismiss. “Come on, get dressed and…” I pull him up, back to his feet. “Good luck.”

We kiss, slow and soft. Tender. And he feels all melted in my arms as I hold him loosely by the waist. “Mmm,” he moans. “Don’t need it.”

 

Rin somehow manages to wangle me a seat with him and the team, using lots of name drops and his usual charm and swagger. Nanase comes out from the lockers in his jammers and a team tracksuit top and sends me a curious look, but ultimately sits with some of his team members. Probably for the best, really.

He looks disinterested and bored throughout the first few heats, and makes a barely half-hearted attempt at cheering for his teammates with the rest of the group.

“Do you want to come poolside?” Rin asks me when it’s time for Nanase’s 200m Free race.

“Erm…” I hesitate. “No, thanks.”

“Suit yourself. Though you’ve got a pretty good view up here anyway,” he grins.

I can’t quite believe what I’m seeing when Nanase soars through the air and slips into the water with barely even a ripple his dive is so perfect. It’s almost like he’s _not swimming_ with the way he glides through the water. He doesn’t immediately take the lead, but unless someone else pulls out a miracle, I can see after the first turn how he’s just minutely increasing in speed with each stroke. He’s not _powerful_ with his stroke, he doesn’t have the muscle mass for that, it’s just pure talent carrying him forwards. His technique isn’t even spot on, it’s just…

He wins, unsurprisingly. And makes even more of a sensation when he immediately soars ahead in the 100m. He doesn’t hold back at all. But even when the crowd is cheering his name, he barely glances at the results board before disappearing through the tunnel into the locker room, and he’s the first one to make his way to re-join the rest of the team and –

“Can I sit here?” I look up and see none other than the man himself, standing beside me and eyeing up Rin’s seat. Rin’s down poolside with his butterfly swimmers anyway.

“Sure.”

There’s a towel around his bare shoulders, but he’s still pretty much dripping wet, and still wearing his jammers and just loosely holding his jacket between his knees.

“Aren’t you getting changed?” I ask him.

He looks down, like he’s only just realising he’s half naked, and shakes his head. “When there’s less people in the lockers…”

“Shy?” I tease, running my eyes over him.

“Don’t really like crowds…” he looks up at me, and I’m still taking in the view. “Pervert,” he scoffs.

There’s a thickness in the air. It’s obvious he’s waiting for me to comment on the race. And he’s so tense, like he’s possibly done something wrong, and I’m not sure how to approach it.

“You’re a very good swimmer,” I say eventually. I don’t mention the win. I don’t even want to _think_ about this feeling of pride that’s welling up in me.

“Yeah…” he breathes, sullen, and I frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t like competitions…”

Ha. Well, I guess they’re boring for him, with that amount of talent but… there’s something else. Something that has nothing to do with his ego. Something in the way he bounces his knee that shows how he _really_ doesn’t want to be here.

“Why are you on the team, then?” I don’t mean to sound as accusing as I do.

“So I can swim,” he says simply.

The silence sits heavy for a while. It’s almost admirable, in its own special way, how he genuinely puts such little standing in the two medals Rin is holding onto for him. I remember his comment, how I’d be _disappointed_ in him, and he obviously meant this, meant this attitude.

“I’m not disappointed in you,” I tell him softly, and bump his knee with mine. “You’re a _very_ good swimmer, though…”

“I only swim Free.”

He doesn’t just mean freestyle.

 

He’s equally as impressive in the relay later in the afternoon, although the team don’t manage to place in the finals that are being held tomorrow. Nanase doesn’t look at all upset, though. A bad dive from their breaststroke swimmer knocked off a few seconds, and the butterfly swimmer wasn’t nearly as fast as he should have been for the standard. Rin looks radiant all the same, though. He follows Nanase back into the stands, chatting his ear off, not even aware Nanase isn’t listening as he reminisces about his old relay runs.

“So are you coming out with us to celebrate?” Rin asks the both of us, grinning wildly. It’s hardly going to be a wild night, though, because the breast and backstroke races are still to come tomorrow.

“Think I’ll pass,” I’m too old for college parties anyway.

“I’m going with him,” is all Nanase says, eyes fixed on me.

“Cheeky,” but he just looks at me, impatient to get going. “See you later, Rin.”

“Bye, guys. Don’t forget I still need him functional for practice on Monday!” he calls, too loudly, attracting some sniggering smirks.

I’m glad the ride home is only short, because it’s too quiet, even for Nanase. Though he has less trouble getting out of the car this time.

“I’ve got your bag,” I tell him as I take it out of the boot. “Can I get you anything?” I come by his side and press a hand into the small of his back. It’s supposed to be encouraging.

“Shower?” he asks, sort of like he doesn’t really want to. I nod. That’s fine. He reeks of pool anyway, and the hot water will do his muscles good.

“You’re not hungry?” I certainly am.

“A bit but…” he makes a small notion with his head. It’s that competition feeling. The whole atmosphere can be a bit of a kick to your appetite, and even Nanase feels it.

“Mm, alright. Do you want to leave your clothes out and I’ll get them washed for tomorrow for you?” he looks wary. “I was going to change back into something comfy, anyway. I’m not saying you have to sit around naked with me all night,” but I’m not going to stop him if that’s what he wants.

 

I wait for him in the lounge, there’s not much on telly but it’s enough to hold my attention so I don’t stare _too_ much when he sneaks in, shirtless, shoulders still a little damp from his hair but he’s brought a towel with him to fix that. He comes over and sits close. Not _too_ close, but definitely intentionally close, probably waiting for me to close the gap. It’s a reminder that he really is young, he’s just learning the little signals from other people that mean “it’s ok, I want you too,” and it’s obvious he doesn’t quite trust his interpretation yet.

But that’s ok. I suppose that’s my role here: to make him feel comfortable. Especially if anything _else_ is going to happen.

“Let me,” I prise the towel from his hands, not giving him chance to think about it too much, and dry off the water on his back and shoulders before doing a more thorough job of his hair. He relaxes, enough that when I toss the towel away and just run my fingers through his hair, he tilts his head back, giving me a delectable view of his neck.

A neck that’s definitely going to get kissed in a minute. Right this minute, actually.

I move my head in closer, brushing my nose against his as a warning, and start with a kiss on his lips, turning him to jelly and he brings one hand up to hold onto me. I slide my own down his back, moving one along his outer thigh and hook my fingers under it. Leaning back, I lift him a little and drag his leg over my own, so he’s straddling my lap again, and then leave his lips to kiss down his neck.

He pulls away, and comes back to my mouth, turning it up a notch and making it deeper than we’ve kissed before, breathing through his nose and arching his back as I run my hands up and down his sides. He holds onto my shoulders, fingers just barely curling into the fabric of my top.

“So have you thought about your options? About what you want?” I ask him, trying to be gentle but my voice comes out rough.

“You,” is all he says, not even pausing for breath and he comes right back to kissing.

I take his cheek in one hand to pull him away just a bit, so I can talk. “And what do you want me to do?”

He shrugs. And this is _not_ a good time for his incessant shrugging habit to show itself again. He apparently senses my displeasure. “What do you normally do with… something like this?”

“Well, the next step might be to get your shirt off, but you’ve already skipped that step.”

“So it’s only fair if I take yours off, too, right?”

Seems fair to me.

Shirt gone, he adjusts himself in my lap so he can run his hands all over my front, just touching, little face all fascinated and excited. He wraps his arms around my neck and kisses again, nothing with even a hint of hesitation. I run one hand down to his ass, dipping under the elastic to teas the top of his crack, and then palming at the firm flesh through his pants. His breath hitches in the kiss, and I take it as permission to get inside. Turns out he’s not wearing underwear.

And as it happens, neither am I.

I run one thick finger down his crack, initiating a pleasured yelp and an accidental tooth in my lip. He soldiers on though, licking the little bite just enough to show he’s sorry.

“Now what?”

“I think this is the part where we should be going upstairs, don’t you?”

“I… ah… yes?” he stammers.

And then, something hits me.

“Nana-”

“Haru,” he corrects. And that’s fair enough, really.

“Haru. Have you… done this before?”

His cheeks tinge pink and he tries to hide in my neck, not that I let him. This is important.

“Uh… not, you know, _all the way_.”

Right then. Well. That probably shouldn’t turn me on the way it does.

“No pressure,” I reassure, because however much I might want it, especially _now_ , this is much more of a big deal to him than me.

“I want to, though.”

“You wouldn’t rather have your first time with someone… significant?”

He shrugs. I need to put a stop to that. “I wouldn’t say you’re _in_ significant and… why wouldn’t I want to have my first time with someone who knows what he’s doing?”

I can see his point. So can my cock.

I give him another kiss and coax him to stand up, giving him a playful smack on his ass.

It’s always a bit weird, this part, this walking to the bedroom with every intention of being naked in the next five minutes. Putting in a few hours at the gym each week suddenly feels like a brilliant idea, especially when I grab hold of Nanase’s… Haru’s tiny little waist and gather him up to my chest, tossing him just lightly to the middle of the bed.

He yelps in surprise, just a startled little noise bubbling up from his throat, but he sits back against the headboard and I shuffle close, taking each of his legs in my hands and spreading them, bending them up by the knee and I sit between them and spread my legs around him as well, coming back in for a kiss and he gasps, opening his mouth up for me and I delve in, using force now, and he submits so easily under my tongue.

“So you like this, then?” I ask, against his mouth.

“What?” and it’s half for clarification, half because he wasn’t really listening.

“Letting me be in control,” I don’t want to say _dominated_ , that might make him worry.

“I… suppose,” he decides.

“Do you want a safe-word?”

“Do I _need_ a safe-word?”

I stroke his cheek, smoothing away that little jolt of nervousness. “Just in case you don’t like anything.”

He shrugs, and I put my hands on his shoulders so he can’t do it again. “Mackerel,” he states blandly, apparently agreeing.

I kiss him again and let him go, moving my hands down to his waist and playing with the hem of Rin’s slightly-too-big pyjama pants. I give him a second, just in case, and then start to slide them down, moving back as I go and dragging my fingers all the way to the tips of his toes before I throw them to the side.

He’s hard, hard as anything I’ve ever seen, which is completely appropriate for a nineteen year old virgin, really, but when your last partner was also barely on the right side of forty, and you’re both drunk and just doing it for the sake of doing it, it’s nice to have this, this excitement, this absolute _want_.

I bring his knees up again, spread wide enough that I can kneel between them, and give the inside of each of his knees a little kiss, just looking. He’s not _shy_ , but he’s a bit embarrassed.

“You’re gorgeous. All of you,” I assure him.

I kiss down his inner thigh, and his breath gets more ragged the closer I get to his crotch. Again, I give him a second to back out, though I highly doubt he will at this point, and give a long lick up the junction between his thigh and pelvis, before getting comfortable on my stomach and dragging him down a bit so I have better access to _everything_ my face is just inches from, hooking my arms around his legs so I can push them up, rolling him on his flexible spine so his hole is proudly displayed for me. He stays quiet, and I glance up to see him looking thoughtful, trying to process every new sensation I’m assaulting him with. I blow on his perineum and his cock jumps a little, releasing a drop that I can’t resist ducking down to lick up.

The almost pained sound moan that rips through him is more than enough encouragement for me to give more little licks, just teasing his slit for a second while he calms himself down. I lick down his shaft, and suck each of his balls into my mouth, and then descend with my tongue further, and finish with a kiss against his little virgin hole.

He yelps again, and his whole body convulses.

“That ok?” I ask him. He takes a breath.

“If… you’re ok.”

I sigh, kissing his inner thigh again. “It’s not about me. If you’re not into that, I’ll stop.”

Somehow, even with his spine curled up, he manages to fucking _shrug_ , “Dunno if I like it yet, do I?”

Well, let’s find out then, shall we?

I start back at his slit again, taking my time and giving every inch equal attention. Not teasing, that wouldn’t be fair. Not for his first time, anyway. Just pampering, getting him comfortable, so relaxed that he moans and whimpers without even trying to get control of himself. He’s practically made a puddle on his stomach by the time I get to kissing his ass again.

I lick over the outside plenty, getting him slick and messy so that when I push my tongue in, he hardly even tenses with the intrusion. His hand comes down to hold my shoulder when I start to push in further, though, so I stop while he squeezes, letting him get used to it. It’s uncomfortable for me, but only lasts a few seconds until he releases his grip and strokes his thumb over where he’s squeezed, even though he hasn’t hurt me. I take it as my signal to carry on.

He’s so wet from my tongue that I don’t even bother reaching for the lube when I go to push the tip of my pinky finger in. He gasps at the intrusion and throws his arms over his face, unconsciously pushing his hips up to meet me.

“Good boy,” I coo, and he moans a little louder. He likes praise, apparently, even if he won’t let on when he’s being praised for his art or his swimming.

I swirl my finger around, pushing against his walls to begin to open him up, and then swap it for my chunkier index finger, and repeat the process until my middle finger is buried inside of him and pumping in and out while I’m still licking around the outside.

“Gon- aaahh – gonna cum,” he struggles to say through his gasps.

I keep my finger pumping but bring my licks back to his head, sucking him in just briefly and he twitches, desperately close.

“Go on, baby,” I encourage, and that’s all he needs.

I lick it up off his stomach while he pants, giving him a few moments to come down from his high. I don’t even need to remind myself that he’s _nineteen_. The party is definitely not over yet.

I move up his body with my gentle kisses, trying not to overly sensitise him with anything, even though my finger is still knuckle deep.

“You good?” I ask, closer to his ear than he was expecting. He still his both arms thrown over his face, but brings one down to clumsily hang around my shoulders, and moves the other behind his head so he can look down at me. “It’s ok, we can take five if you want.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with his big, beautiful eyes. I begin to pull my finger out, but he squeezes tightly around me and frowns. That would be a no, then.

I take the lube from my bedside drawer and pull my finger all the way out, much to his dismay, and I scold his impatience with a little nip to his knee. I slick my fingers and run some around his entrance, spreading it on his insides with my index finger which slips in so _easily_ now, and then slowly push in with my middle as well.

He arches up, obviously feeling a burn as he struggles to accommodate me, but he breathes out and relaxes quickly, squeezing and shuffling himself as he gets used to it. When he stills, I slide them slowly in and out a few times, and then twist and spread to loosen him further, not yet focusing on finding his sweet spot, because that _might_ just be too much for him just yet.

“Another,” he demands, much more coherent than expected after such an intense orgasm.

I move in to lick him again, hoping to soothe any pain while I push my forefinger in. He gasps, and takes a few deep breaths, but he’s definitely prepared for it, at least mentally. He’s rock hard again, too. I suck him in as deep as I can when I pump all three fingers in and out, continuously spreading them to get him as loose as possible.

There’s not much more I can do for him now besides breaking out a large toy, and that might just ruin the intimacy a little.

“How do you feel?” I ask, punctuating with a kiss to his thigh, just where the muscles connect. I decide I like this spot. I’ll make my mark on it, later.

“Hot,” he breathes, probably taking my question a bit too literally. He seems to notice, too, and corrects himself. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

I pull out of him entirely with a wet squelch and positively _irritated_ groan and kneel between his legs again. Simultaneously, our eyes look towards my crotch, and my pyjamas practically _ruined_ with the wet spot. His eyes flash and he looks hard at me, expecting. I take that as my cue to disrobe completely.

His face remains impassive as my cock springs up to smack my stomach with a wet, fleshy _slap_. Completely neglected, I let him reach down and wrap his hand around, letting him gauge the thickness by touching his thumb to his fingers, and keeping hold he looks up at me, blinking. His hands are clammy, but feel _so good_ as he slides up and down, and dips his thumb into my leaking slit like a professional. It’s obvious we won’t need much foreplay on my part.

“Only if you’re sure,” I promise, nose into his cheek and struggling not to pant to heavily while he strokes me.

“I’m sure,” his tone is blunt and confident, and I get the feeling he never does _anything_ unless he really wants to, whatever impression he might have given off earlier with hating competitions, there’s obviously _something_ in it for him.

“It’ll probably be easier if you turn around.”

“I want to face you, though.”

He means he wants to watch me go to pieces inside of him. I can tell by that mischievous little glint in his eye.

“Alright then. Scoot up.”

I pat him on the side of the hip and take his place sitting in the middle of the bed, leaning my shoulders back against the headboard, and he quickly gets the hint and straddles me.

“There’s condoms in the top drawer,” I direct, and he moves swiftly without comment, even adding a squirt of lube and slicking me up. After quickly wiping my face on a tissue and popping a mint in my mouth, I hold out my fingers for a squeeze and reach between his legs to give him a final coating. “Go as slow as you need.”

And that’s it. I’ve handed over the reins. This is all up to him now.

He goes to bring his feet up into a crouch, but I push him back, setting his knees either side of my hips. Just the feel of my tip brushing along his crack makes me moan a little. He holds onto my shoulders to steady himself, and starts trying to sink down, but results in merely sliding my length up between his cheeks, and even _that_ is something worth remembering. I hold one hand tight on his waist, and use my other to help guide him down, keeping hold of myself while he finally gets the tip in.

He stops immediately, nothing but pure pain on his face, he doesn’t even try to mask it.

I turn my head to kiss at his wrists, because it’s all I can reach, but Haru decides that’s not enough and leans forward to kiss my lips, desperately seeking for me to soothe him, even though the movement makes him sink another inch down on my cock.

I’m deep enough in now that I can let go of my shaft and hold him properly, using the warmth of my hand to rub his lower back, hoping to ease some of the pain that way too, but all he ultimately needs is some time to adjust.

Slowly, and with continuous kisses, he gets himself fully seated in my lap and we share a moan into each other’s mouths. When he starts trying to rise up again, I push him to sit up and hold his hips, guiding him to grind down on me instead.

“Good, you’re _so_ good, Haru,” I pant, and he begins to speed up, no longer needing my help.

I take one hand off him to hold his leaking cock, and now’s probably the time to try and find that sweet spot of his. I give an experimental thrust upwards, and when he throws his head back with just how _deep_ it is, I know I’m find to carry on. I shuffle down the bed just an inch more, angling myself perfectly inside him and buck up, hard, on his next grind down and _oh, the noise_ he lets out. I think he might have actually _sobbed_. All I can do is grin, but the pleasure is really starting to get the best of me, too, so I stop playing around and lose myself to my animal instincts and just _fuck him_.

He’s practically twitching in my hand, so close to cumming, but I hold him tight at the base. I’m not far off, either, so I make him wait until I’m ready to join him. When I know I’m just seconds away, I pump him in earnest and he sprays all over my chest, back arched and squeezing tight around my cock, and I can’t hold back, thrusting up through my orgasm almost spastically.

He flops forwards onto my chest and lies there panting for a few moments while I stroke up and down his sides. Gripping the inside of his thighs, I prise him off me, half-hard cock slipping out with a _plop_ and help him lie down comfortably beside me. I clean us both up, being extra gentle as I mop up the wetness around his hole, and settle down with him. We’re both too hot for a blanket, probably too hot to even touch, but that doesn’t stop him shifting over and nestling his head against my chest.

When I’ve caught my breath, I roll him off me and try to slide away without disturbing him, but he shoots out a hand to grab my wrist.

“I’ll be back in a second,” I promise.

And true to my word I return as quickly as possible with water and our remaining grapes. It’s dinner time back in the real world, but Haru’s clearly too passed out for a big meal. But considering he’s not eaten since _breakfast_ and he’s not only just been completely fucked out but swam two hard races as well today, he really should eat something.

I force him to sit up so he can drink, and hold my arm around him supportively while he does the best impression of jelly I’ve ever seen. He’s smiling, though, completely content to be petted and pampered and take grapes from between my teeth.

“What happens now?” he asks, tone too mellow for the true seriousness of the question.

“We… see how things go.”

It’s still open, he’s still free to back out, but it also holds the promise that we’ll get to do this again.

**Author's Note:**

> Another practice at a 1st person smutty one shot.  
> Primary purpose to try and get the knack of writing IN CHARACTER in first person, so maybe I shouldn't have chosen Sousuke for this. I've tried to base him on the relationship we see with Ai, how he's sort of irritated/aggressive, but ultimately very caring and responsible. Sort of why I wanted to make him so much older than Haru, too. 
> 
> Also, I totally intend to write a Part 2/sequel/direct continuation from Haru's point of view, at least if this goes down well. 
> 
> Please leave me comments and love and I just overall hope it was worth the read.
> 
> (And if anyone has any ideas for an actual title, just let me know.)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The best policy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5387159) by [maybeillride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybeillride/pseuds/maybeillride)




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